


do i know you?

by cumpeachx



Series: do i know you? [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, a bit of angst, roommate au, soft!timmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-26 11:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumpeachx/pseuds/cumpeachx
Summary: Timmy finds himself in an unlikely predicament -- living with a man he's never met before.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speakfree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakfree/gifts).



> hello! one day a lovely friend of mine gifted me the prompt "what if armie and timmy were roommates but had never met?" m, this is for you!

“I can see your dick,” Timmy slurped as he took a bite of Frosted Flakes. He smiled as he crunched.

“What? Oh...fuck.” The brunette turned red, which maybe would have been cute, but since Timmy was positive his roommate had spent the entire night fucking this guy… maybe not that cute.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” The guy looked him over then made a face as something seemed to dawn on him. “Wait, are you the new roommate?”

Timmy waved his spoon hello and milk splattered onto the counter. He wiped it up with his sleeve. He had been moved in for a while now but sure, yeah, _new_.

“Armie mentioned a roommate. Fuck, my bad. Sorry about all the dick.”

Timmy raised an eyebrow. “Is this a common occurrence?” He gestured with his spoon to the guy’s appearance; too big robe that was lazily tied at the waist, cock and balls still visible, then motioned down the hallway which led to bedrooms.The guy looked confused and Timmy laughed, taking another sloppy bite of cereal and after a few crunches he tried again, mouth still full. It was a common occurrence, Timmy knew, but it was never the same person twice. Still, he didn’t have the heart to make Armie’s one night stand’s think they were anything more or less.

“I’m assuming you’re Armie’s boyfriend?” Timmy asked out of politeness, but he knew better.

The guy laughed. “No way, man. We just hooked up last night.” The guy opened the fridge and drank milk straight from the carton. Timmy dropped his spoon into his bowl, horrified. “Tinder. You know how it is,” the guy laughed again and wiped his milk mustache from his top lip.

Timmy faked a smile. “Totally,” he lied.

-

This was how most mornings went ever since he had moved in with Armie. Timmy had never had a roommate before but he wasn’t naive enough to think that what he had with Armie was anything close to normal. Hell, he hadn’t even _met_ the guy. The only reason he’d taken the room was because he was desperate and a friend of a friend (of a friend) had let them know about a room for rent. Him and Armie had texted, made two failed attempts to meet up, and eventually decided that they’d take the risk and that was that.

That was four weeks ago. A month of living in what was basically a stranger’s apartment. At first, it didn’t seem too odd - clearly they had different schedules, different lifestyles, and their timing was off. Way, way off. Timmy’s friends told him to consider himself lucky because most of the time living with other people was a nightmare. He tried to look at it that way for a while, tried to enjoy the silence, the privacy. Armie was a very tidy person, the apartment always stocked with food and sundries he’d never even think to buy, and yet most of the time it felt like he was living with a ghost. Armie seemed to be an anomaly; he had no social media, his name didn’t appear anywhere when Timmy spent any entire night googling, not even a resume or business profile under his name. The few photos in the apartment seemed promising but when Timmy carefully pulled them out of the frames on the wall and turned them over on the fridge, they were all labeled with names that didn’t include _Armie_.

Armie’s fuck buddies offered a bit of relief to his curiosity. The strangers provided minor details about this strange enigmatic human he shared walls with; Armie liked slender brunettes, male or female. They were always pretty, always. He drank gin, as one woman had divulged after Timmy had held her hair back as she threw up into their kitchen sink. Someone explained that Armie was funny but intense, with a deadpan sense of humor that people attributed to him just being an asshole. Timmy wasn’t sure if that was more of a fact or opinion because that particular one night had seemed rather bitter to find Timmy was the only one home the morning after. Timmy eventually found out that Armie worked at a brewery the one time he asked which brewery specifically a judgmental, buff, half-naked brunette asked “he’s your roommate, shouldn’t you know that?” So he never bothered again.

Other than the morning encounters with Armie’s fuck buddies, the only reason Timmy was sure that Armie was a real person was because of the odd ways they communicated. Mostly mundane text messages; _’at the store, need anything?’_  A note scribbled on the whiteboard hanging on the fridge; _’drank the last of your almond milk, sorry. will replace’_ One time Armie had even folded his laundry that he’d embarrassingly forgotten in the washer. Armie left it neatly placed on the edge of his messy bed. When Timmy put the clothes away later that night he found a band shirt that didn't belong to him but accompanied with a note from Armie that read _'seems like your style.’_

Then there were the almost encounters. He was especially fond of these because they made him feel less crazy than he probably was. Timmy found that if he woke up early enough on the days Armie didn’t have a “friend” over, there would still be lingering steam on the mirror from Armie’s shower when he used to restroom, or fresh coffee in the pot that meant Armie had left some just for him. One time he’d managed to catch a tangle of limbs as they stumbled into Armie’s room, but it had been dark in the apartment when Timmy got home from work and who knew which pair of calves actually belonged to Armie.

So now, four weeks later, after yet another breakfast spent with a half naked stranger, Timmy stood outside Armie’s door, staring as if he could somehow see through the foundation. He pulled anxiously at his bottom lip with his teeth and leaned in for umpteenth time to press his ear against the cool wood. He scrunched his face as he strained to listen, trying to decipher any possible sounds that would indicate there was someone on the other side. He pulled back after a few seconds, gasping when he heard a noise down the hallway. He wondered if having a heart attack was worth the risk but after another moment of close listening, he determined it was just the refrigerator kicking on. He was alone in the apartment, per usual.

“Fuuuck,” he danced on his toes. His adrenaline was high, his heart pounding loudly against his rib cage. Was he really about to sneak into his roommate's bedroom? He felt desperate at this point, his curiosity was almost painful. There had to be something in Armie’s room that would indicate, at the very least, what the guy looked like. He’d never had the courage to ask directly, for fear it’d give away his awkward predicament and the only bit of information he’d ever received about Armie’s appearance was that he was “huge,” which Timmy wasn’t sure were much of a description at all. A well of frustration burned in his chest and with a final “fuck it,” he twisted the door knob, sweaty palm and all, and pushed the door open.

-

Timmy exhaled carefully as he laid his body flat against the firm mattress, as if breathing too hard would disturb Armie’s carefully tucked sheets. As soon as he had entered the room, he panicked. He stood in the center and looked around, too nervous to touch anything on the carefully organized desk by the window, or even on the dust-free shelves and bookcase across the room. So he had taken to the bed instead and was now staring up at the popcorn ceiling, watching as the fan that rotated slowly in the center. He tried to imagine Armie in this bed, with every one of his conquests that Timmy had spent the past month encountering in the morning. He hated that he could see every single one of their faces so clearly yet Armie was still a faceless entity, just a blur of warm shower steam and fancy scripted writing on the whiteboard.

With a sigh, Timmy pushed himself up on to his elbows and glanced around the room. He squinted and tried to focus on anything within a frame — maybe there would a family photo, pictures from a vacation, maybe even a college graduation shot, anything that would give him an idea about this almost-stranger he had been living with for the past four weeks.

“Nothing,” Timmy muttered to himself, shaking his head. No photos in sight, just a few posters of bands he’d never even heard of. Despite his best efforts, Timmy felt his eyes burn hot as if he might cry. How could a single person be so hard to know? Ashamedly, Timmy knew he had himself to blame - at any point over the past month he could have easily knocked on Armie’s door when he was positive he was there and introduced himself, got it all over with. But somehow days had turned into weeks and Timmy realized that Armie’s interest to meet him had felt like a blow to his ego. It wasn’t like Armie had knocked on his door either.

With his embarrassment at an all time high, and his pride at an all time low, Timmy rose to his feet. It was one thing to sneak into Armie’s room, but another if he laid there, pathetically crying about something so ridiculous as not knowing what his roommate looked like. He inhaled deeply, taking a final sweep of the room, when something neon orange at the edge of nightstand caught his eye.

Timmy trailed a finger over the post it note, reading closely at the words and numbers on the sheet. It was a schedule of some sort, all evening hours, and Timmy scanned the list in a hurry to figure out what day of the week was missing.

“Friday,” he whispered under his breath excitedly as if he’d just figured out a challenging puzzle. This must be Armie’s work schedule and his day off was Friday. That gave him four days to figure out how to stage a chance encounter. He smoothed the bed out to make sure that there were no signs he’d been there and then scrambled back to his room to start devising his plan.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! my goal is to update one chapter a week but this story is getting the best of me in that i am plotting much more than i intended...so the chapter count will be updated. once i decide how far i really want this to go. lksdjgsdkl. anyway. enjoy. :D  
> its all fiction, of course.  
> (shout out to b for this chap! she knows why.)

The next morning, Timmy woke up to find a brunette searching through the cupboards. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun and she was wearing a large flannel that barely covered her ass. He knew it must be Armie’s. Timmy cleared his throat as he entered the kitchen to make his presence known and the woman turned around with a warm, bright smile. Her teeth were impeccable.

“Timmy! It’s Timmy, right?” She asked kindly, tilting her head to the side curiously. He recognized her right away and his stomach dropped - this wasn’t her first time spending the night with Armie. He’d never encountered a repeat before.

“Yeah, Timmy,” he smiled back, uncertainty vibrating with every syllable. He didn’t remember her name, he never tried to remember any of their names because he assumed he’d never see them again. He took a seat at the kitchen table as the woman looked around for another few moments before sighing and looking over towards him for help.

“Coffee filters?”

Timmy shook his head. “French press, top left cabinet.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Ah yes, I remember now. Although last time you were sweet enough to make it for me. Should I return the favor?”

“No,” he responded dryly, then over-corrected, “No, no, thank you.” Timmy scratched his head through his messy curls and cleared his throat, shifting in his seat nervously. He did his best to sound relaxed but his voice betrayed him by the way he stuttered.

“So uh, is A-Armie… you know, is he here?” If the woman noticed anything strange about his question or how he presented it, she didn’t make it obvious. She continued to work on preparing the coffee.

“He’s still asleep.” As soon as she answered, the sound of the bathroom door closing echoed down the hallway and followed by the rumble of the shower turning on. She smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “Guess he’s awake. Want to join us for coffee?”

“No,” Timmy stood up quickly, shaking his head and headed straight for the door. He grabbed his headphones from the coffee table and his hoodie that he’d left on the couch. She was looking at him oddly now and he shot her a sweet smile. “Thanks! Bye!”

-

Timmy winced, groaning as he re-read yet another variation of the same text he had spent all morning typing up to Armie. He kept rewording it, changing the punctuation, deciding if he should capitalize or go with all lowercase, add an emoji, delete an emoji, but it seemed impossible to find the perfect balance of _urgent_ but _chill_. His bottom lip was nearly raw from how aggressively he was chewing it.

“What the fuck,” he grumbled to himself, falling back against his pillows. He kicked his legs against his mattress like a petulant child, then rolled over onto his belly. “Just fucking do it, pussy.” He pressed his face hard against his pillow, the heat of his breath making it hard to breathe, but the extra kick of adrenaline was just what he needed. He flopped back over to his back and with a quiet squeal, he pressed send.

TC: heyy sooo im sort of locked out of the apartment

Timmy clicked his phone screen off, placing it face down on his belly, then clenched his eyes shut as he waited. Waited, waited, waited…

AH: Nice job, lol. Did you lose your key?  
AH: Management charges $25 for key replacement.

TC: haha no i just locked myself out

AH: Smooth. Well I should be off work in an hour.  
AH: Want to come pick mine up?

Armie texted his work address and Timmy just stared at it. He felt a panic run through him at the thought of having to go to Armie’s work, the thought of meeting his co-workers, seeing him in any other space other than the one he was familiar with - their apartment. He stared at his phone and wondered how he was going to get out of this. Armie wasn’t even supposed to work today. His schedule had indicated Friday would be his off day but when Timmy woke up, the apartment was empty and Armie’s work boots he always kept by the door were gone. This was his pathetic, desperate attempt to stage an encounter. He felt like an idiot, especially considering he was still in his sweats, in bed, definitely not locked out of the apartment.

AH: Or you can just wait for me?

Timmy felt his cheeks flush. He’d waited too long to respond and Armie must have sensed his hesitance. He cursed and wiggled in the bed, his anticipation making him feel breathless. This was such a terrible idea.

TC: yeah, im cool with waiting

Armie responded back with three thumbs up emoji and immediately Timmy was scrambling. He spent the next twenty minutes over thinking his outfit, not wanting to look too casual but also like he might have just come from a cool social event as opposed to what he had really done all morning - binge Netflix and eat cold cheese pizza leftovers. He decided on a pair of jeans, which he tucked into a pair of black socks and sneakers. He pulled on his favorite sweater; the pretty blue one with black birds on it which his best friend had gifted to him on his last birthday. He ran his fingers through his curls which did absolutely nothing except make them exceptionally fluffy but he had the irrational thought that Armie could be home _any minute_ despite saying he’d be off in an hour and quickly he tossed his keys onto the counter in the kitchen and proceeded to lock himself out. On purpose.

Timmy was staring at the 20% battery life on his phone when he finally heard footsteps coming up the stairwell. He felt sweaty instantly, his face contorting awkwardly in an attempt to look like he wasn’t nervous but Armie, fucking Armie, was making his way up the steps and holy shit, they were finally going to meet. A body turned the corner and Timmy averted his gaze, quickly pulling his headphones down to his shoulders and shuffling to his feet.

“Hey, man,” a soft, low voice echoed in the quiet of the hallway. The only other sound was the rumble of music still playing from Timmy’s headphones and his own breathing which he was trying to steady.

“Timmy, right?” he asked, smiling but cautious. Timmy nodded.

“That’s me,” he chuckled in response. They stared at each other quietly for a moment and Timmy tried not to stare but everything that he had imagined about Armie seemed spot on but also _different_. The guy standing before him was very attractive, tall, and warm. He seemed to be taking Timmy in as well, a smile twitching at the corner of his attractive mouth and Timmy felt himself flush at the obvious approval. Timmy’s eyes scaled over his features, from his dark eyes and lashes, down over his leather jacket, his blue jeans, all the way to his sneakers.

Not boots. Wait, no boots?

“Um, well, I’m Nick. Armie got held up at work but he said you were locked out and asked me to drop these off,” he pulled out a set of keys and tossed them over to Timmy, who barely caught them. There was an awkward silence and Nick smacked his lips together, shifting on his heels. They were both blushing but now for very different reasons.

“Well, Timmy, it was nice to meet you!” Nick waved a hand which Timmy returned, a small smile on his face but disappointment was flooding every part of his system.

“Nice to meet you too,” he called out after Nick had already turned down the hallway.

Timmy opened the apartment, sulked into the living room before deciding to grab another slice of cold pizza and head to his room. He left the door unlocked for Armie, who would probably be home in a few hours with another friend, maybe that brunette woman from the other morning. He left Armie's keys on the counter next to his own.

-

Timmy turned his chin to the side when his phone buzzed and blinked as a text came through. His alarm clock told him it was late at night, or early in the morning, so he figured one of his friends were drunk texting, asking why he wasn’t out with them, confessing their love for him or something equally ridiculous. He reached out with a huff to pick up his phone, surprise washing over him when he realized it was Armie.

AH: You’ve listened to that Shins song three times  
AH: In a row.  
AH: It’s a good song but consecutive playback? Maybe not that good

His entire face flushed with embarrassment. It was normal for him to blast his music but he’d been in a particular mood tonight and in his defense, he thought that Armie wasn’t home. His phone buzzed again.

AH: Are you okay?

Timmy waits two minutes but before he can respond another text comes through.

AH: Just want to make sure I wont wake up to find you dead, or worse.

Timmy hated that Armie was a double texter because it made him feel rushed to decide what he wanted to reply back with, a panic to find the perfectly curated response. He was easily overwhelmed, especially on nights like this. Still, he laughed at Armie’s morbid sense of humor. He typed back a quick response.

TC: lol worse than death ?

His heart beat frantically as he watched the dots pulsate on the bottom of his screen.

AH: I don’t know... waking up to find you crying into your Frosted Flakes?

Timmy responded with three cry-laughing emojis. Three minutes went by. Another text came in.

AH: Really though, you good?

TC: i’m good

Another two thumbs up emoji. Timmy sighed, turned off his music and the lights, tossing his phone to the end of the bed, and was about to attempt sleep when another text came through. He considered leaving it but when the reminder buzz vibrated at his feet, followed by more texts, he sat up and swiped it off the comforter.

AH: My friend Nick thinks you’re cute.  
AH: Not sure if that’s your thing…  
AH: But he basically held me at gunpoint till I swore I’d give you his number

  
Timmy stared at the phone number on his screen, re-reading the series of texts from Armie over and over again. He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed, couldn’t place why he suddenly wanted to cry from frustration. Fifteen minutes went by before he decided on a response; a single thumbs up emoji.


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! things are sad! oh no!  
> i updated the chapter count.  
> it's almost over!  
> or is it?  
> :]
> 
> also just... thank you for the response to this story. i've absolutely fallen in love with this version of timmy and i've been immensely enjoying writing him. so it warms my tiny lil heart to know so many of you find him just as lovable.  
> also, in this story timmy is 20 and armie is 25.
> 
> fiction and stuff.

It had started innocently enough; Timmy had run out of his usual shampoo and, unfortunately, his oily hair and flattening curls were in dire need of a wash. Timmy reasoned that it was totally normal for roommates to borrow each other’s products. He knew he probably should have asked first, or at the very least sent a text, but Armie was a busy guy and surely he wouldn’t care if Timmy borrowed some of his shampoo. 

Except now, two weeks after he’d run out, he sort of loved the way that Armie’s shampoo made his curls fluffier than they would be naturally and that he smelled woodsy and warm as opposed to the floral, citrus scent of his own products. Timmy stared at the bottle of Armie’s shampoo and tried to ignore the fact that it was nearly gone, and probably obvious that he’d been using it regularly for the past two weeks. It took him five minutes of just standing under the hot stream of water to decide that surely one more time wouldn’t make a difference. He squeezed a modest amount into the palm of his hand, instantly warmed by the smells that mixed with the heavy steam that was quickly taking over the bathroom. Armie had texted him the other day, teasing about using all the hot water, asking him suggestively what it was that he got up to that required half hour long showers. Timmy had blushed so furiously, his only response was a few shrugging emoji and offering to pay the water bill this month.

Timmy tried to imagine Armie, who frustratingly always looked like Nick now, using the shampoo in his hair, the suds dripping down his neck, over his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen, his cock. He didn’t understand how it was possible to not only be attracted to someone he’d never seen, but to also fantasize about him so thoroughly that his own dick was throbbing between his thighs. The decision to start stroking his cock was easy enough, but he felt a tinge of guilt when he used Armie’s shampoo to slick over his length, quickly creating a froth of bubbles and suds as he stroked himself to the mere idea of Armie - whoever he might be. Timmy found comfort in the fact that _at least_ he knew what Armie smelled like and that was all it took for him to come against his own belly, leaning forward and spurting onto the glass door as he rubbed himself empty. He sighed, grabbing the shower head to rinse his come down the drain, watching with a hopeless gaze as the soap and semen swirl together at his feet. 

-

“I’m sorry, why do you mean _you haven’t met him?_ ” Saoirse waved two records in the air to get Timmy’s attention from a few shelves over. He was purposefully avoiding her eyes, his brows furrowed together in determination to focus on the task at hand. 

He shrugged a shoulder. “The opportunity just hasn’t...come up.”

“Yeah but you _live with him._ I don’t understand. You haven’t like, bumped into each other in the hallway, got hungry or had to take a shit at the same time?” She had completely abandoned their task, shoving two records into the wrong slot, and Timmy rolled his eyes because he was going to have to go over there to fix it later. No one deserved to find Dave Matthews Band under The Cure. 

“I know it’s weird but I feel like I’ve waited too long now. I can’t just go knock on his door and be like ‘oh, cool, just wanted to say hi and thanks for doing my laundry for the second time this month.’” Timmy’s face was flushed a deep red as he mocked himself and his inability to make his life as simple as it could be. 

“What the _fuck_ , Timmy? And he’s doing your laundry?” Saoirse was wide eyed and slack jawed as she walked around the corner to his side. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the look he’d dubbed “disappointed mom.”

“I always forget to take it out of the washer and by the time I remember, it’s dry and folded on my bed,” Timmy groaned sheepishly. Living these moments was bad enough but admitting aloud what was happening to him was embarrassing beyond belief. His chin dipped down in shame. Saoirse must have sensed his shift in mood and her disappointment turned to concern as she slipped an arm around his shoulder. 

“Look, Timo, this is obviously some weird phenomenon that’s probably never happened to anyone ever before in the history of existence -” Saoirse grinned and Timmy gave her a dirty look. She tugged the loose curls hanging against the back of his neck. “But you can fix it. Invite him for a drink or something. It really doesn’t need to be this complicated.”

“I’m not 21 yet,” Timmy frowned. 

Saoirse rolled her eyes, she was always forgetting that he was under drinking age. Probably because they got drunk together at her apartment almost once a week. She put a hand on her hip and looked at him defiantly. 

“Then _coffee_ or something. Just fucking text the guy!” Saoirse pressed a rough kiss against his forehead out of exasperation and Timmy nodded in understanding. It was tough love, but perhaps it was what he needed to hear. 

“Look, I’ll even let you off work an hour early... if you promise me you’ll text him _right now_ and arrange to meet up _tonight_ ,” Saoirse raised both her eyebrows persuasively. It was times like these when Timmy both loved and hated that he had someone as cool as Saoirse as his boss. He let out a moan of uncertainty, his heart already starting to pound aggressively in his chest at the thought.

“I don’t know…” Timmy swayed, shaking his head, curls knocking around over his face that was starting to burn hot with nerves. He looked up and caught her giving him _that look_ again. “I have to wake up early for my radio show and he’s probably busy. I’m sure that if he really wanted to hang out with me then he would have--”

“Timmy. Stop.” Saoirse pressed a finger over his mouth. “There’s a million excuses. Just go home. Text him. Get it over with.” They stared at each other in silence for a moment, her finger still resting over his mouth, until finally his shoulders relaxed and he nodded. She had won and she knew it by the smile that covered her freckled face. “I’ll see you tomorrow night and I expect to hear all the details.”

Timmy spent half an hour sitting in the break room, which was actually just an exceptionally large closet with a coffee pot and mini refrigerator, chewing at his fingers until he finally sent the text.

TC: off work early. want to meet up for dinner?

By the time he got home, showered, crawled into bed in just his underwear, he still hadn’t gotten a text back.

-

Timmy’s alarm went off at two o'clock in the morning. 

Earlier that year he had been given his own three hour block at his college’s radio station. It was from three am to six am. He called it _The French Dispatch_ and right now, it was the most important three hours of any given day. Mostly he played whatever songs reflected his mood, occasionally he would read excerpts from novels he was currently reading or just general favorites, and even more rarely, he’d read poetry that he found particularly moving. Timmy winced at the light of his phone as he checked his messages, but Armie had yet to respond. 

Tonight’s playlist was going to be a rough one.

Timmy decided to skip a shower and instead just pulled on his black sweater with the cherries on it, a pair of sweats, and didn’t bother to brush his tangled hair. He grabbed his backpack, keys, bike lock, his phone, and his headphones then made a beeline towards the door but nearly collided with someone in the hallway.

“Shit, shit, sorry!” Timmy muttered, pulling his headphones down to his shoulders. The brunette woman from the other day smiled big and wide at him just like she had that day, all perfect teeth and kindness. Timmy found it irrationally annoying. 

“Timmy, hey! Where are you going?” She asked, looking him over. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Timmy furrowed his brows together, feeling like a child that was being scolded by his parents. He tried to ignore the fact that he could see her breasts through the thin lining of the white shirt she was wearing and that her insanely long, perfect legs were completely bare. By the state of her hair, she and Armie must have been busy.

“Work,” he responded with a shrug. She looked confused but before she could question him anymore he explained himself. “Sort of. I do a block at my college radio station. I’m running late.”

The brunette stepped aside with an awkward smile and Timmy mumbled a quick goodnight to her before hurrying down the hallway. As he closed the door shut behind him, he could have swore he heard a deep, unfamiliar voice call out the name “Liz!”

-

Timmy stared blankly into the monitor that was currently the only light present in the small room that was his college’s radio station. His eyes scanned over the last three songs he’d lined up next for his playlist, realization dawning in his bloodshot eyes. It wasn’t his intention to get incredible stoned and then play only the saddest songs he could get his hands on but as soon as he’d pressed start on Eric Clapton’s acoustic rendition of _Tears In Heaven_ , he wasn’t surprised when one of his friends sent a text asking of he was okay. He held his phone low against his lap, sending a quick reply and then pulled up his message to Armie. He frowned, staring only for a moment before angrily deleting the entire message thread. The text didn’t even say _read_ which made Timmy hopeful for the better part of a second until he realized that maybe Armie just hadn’t wanted to open the message at all.

With a sigh, Timmy slouched back against the swivel chair he was lounging in and propped his feet up on the counter, his converse tearing the corner of a paper that was taped to the desk which read _keep your feet off._ His head hung back over the top of the chair, messy hair dangling and swaying as he shifted his body back and forth gently. He closed his eyes, running his hands through the tangles in his curls, and tried not to imagine every worse case scenario that could arise when, or if, he ever did meet Armie. 

The Shins song he had been blasting in his room the night Armie texted him clicked on and Timmy thought about Nick, who had apparently told Armie he was cute. A rush of adrenaline washed over him, his stomach knotting with nerves and frustration as he now thought about the brunette woman - Liz - in the hallway earlier. What was so special about her that she kept showing up? What sort of luck did he have that it was her he’d continuously bump into and not Armie? Maybe this was all just a weird, not particularly creative episode of the Twilight Zone. Or maybe he was just really, really high. 

Timmy’s feet slid off the counter with a loud thud and he opened up a new message to Armie. Before he could rethink or second guess himself, he typed out a new message.

TC: hey, forgot to save ur friend nicks number. resend?

It only took one more Shins song before Armie replied with Nick’s number.


	4. part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank youuuu everyone. seriously.  
> i hope this gives you the answers to your burning questions! see the end of the chapter for an additional note!  
> (:
> 
> all fiction, etc. 
> 
> ps. i finished this chapter on my phone and roughly looked it over myself at like 4am, so any and all mistakes are my own. oops!

“What the fuck, Armie?” Nick huffed as he pulled a stool out from under the bar top then took a seat with a sigh. Armie looked over in confusion, pouring Nick a beer from the tap before walking over to him, sliding the pint over the wood, a bit of foam splashing over. He wiped it up quickly with a bar towel from his back pocket.

“What did I do now?” he asked, shoving the towel roughly back into his jeans. He leaned over the bartop, elbows propped as he crossed his arms. Nick gulped down some of the beer before answering but Armie could see the smile over the rim of the glass, could see the glint in his brown eyes. He had a feeling, but he secretly hoped that he was wrong.

“Your roommate. He’s…” Nick shook his head, his eyes drifting far away. Armie knew what that meant. “I’m surprised you haven’t made a move. He’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” Armie asked, his eyes focused in on his best friend. It never took much for Nick to fall head over heels for someone, which was why he was constantly having his heart broken. He could already sense the avalanche of questions that were about to come his way about Timmy. He found himself already frustrated at having to give up any information about the kid, which admittedly, wasn’t much. 

“He’s kinda young,” Armie shrugged, as if that was going to make much of a difference. Nick was young himself, 23, but that still meant older than Timmy, according to what his friend that had set this whole roommate situation up told him. Nick took another swig of his beer and hummed thoughtfully.

“What’s he like? What do you know about him? He seems…” Nick trailed off again. Armie thought of asking what the hell had gone down when Nick dropped his keys off that had made such an impression on him, but maybe he didn’t want to know. Armie raised both of his eyebrows and Nick smiled sheepishly. They’d know each other since they were kids and it was clear that Nick was going to jump headfirst into whatever fantasy he was already creating in his head.

“I don’t know, man. I haven’t really talked to him outside of texting and stuff. We have different schedules.”

Nick looked at him, calling bullshit. He didn’t say anything, just stared hard at Armie until he caved in with a sigh. He started to wipe at the bar top with the towel, despite the fact there was nothing that needed cleaning.

“Shit. Alright, he’s—” Armie took a deep breath, his chin tilting upwards as he put together a quick list to summarize his roommate. “He’s messy. Like, there’s always soggy frosted flakes in the sink, he forgets his laundry in the washer all the damn time. He drinks a shit ton of orange juice,” Armie looked at Nick, who was hanging on his every word. Armie laughed, but he wasn’t sure if it was because Nick was smitten or that everything he was saying about Timmy should be annoying but instead he found it endearing. “He listens to music really fucking loud -- that sad indie shit we used to play in college.” 

Nick raised his eyebrows, his head tilting to the side as he considered this new information. Armie felt like he was being unfair, that Nick might take what he was saying as true complaints when really, Armie had been holding on to these details about Timmy for as long as they had lived together but he couldn’t place why they mattered to him so much.

“He seems cool though. He’s slipped a few albums under my door - I think he works at a record store?” More information he’d heard through the grapevine but wasn’t sure. “Sometimes he draws stupid comics on the fridge with like, shitty sex puns. They’re ridiculous.” Also the highlight of his morning, but that was irrelevant. Nick looked suspicious.

“You’re not like…” Nick made a crude gesture with his hands. Armie laughed.

“No, no.”

Nick looked at him apprehensively, taking him in to try to decipher the truth. Armie furrowed his brows together, expertly making his face unreadable. He could tell that Nick was doubting him and he understood why; he’d seen Timmy a few times, usually asleep on the couch when he was getting home late from work. The kid was all curls and innocence, long limbs and freckles. Armie hated that he had a “type” and from what he could tell, Timmy was it - and then some. On his way to work a few weeks back he’d spotted Timmy outside their apartment. He was straddling his bike as he stood in the center of the sidewalk, scrolling through his phone, wearing huge, bright pink headphones and a sporting a mustard yellow backpack that was covered in pins and patches. Armie had almost offered him a ride but the light turned green and Timmy was pedaling away before he could even change gears. That day he’d thought about him a lot but ultimately decided that one, the kid was too young for him to even consider, and two, never date your fucking roommate. He’d learned that lesson the hard way with Liz.

Nick was still staring at Armie but his expression had changed, his eyes now wide with hope, expectation. Armie shook his head, reaching over to pat his friend on the back. Nick wanted his permission and like most people Armie cared about, he had a hard time saying no.

“Go for it, man.” 

-

Armie stared at the preview text from Timmy asking him to meet up for dinner. He chewed his lip, feeling Liz’s eyes watching him curiously, nervously.

“Thanks for doing this for me, Armie…” her voice was soft, appreciative. He looked up from his phone with apologetic eyes, then quickly shoved it into his pocket. He could sense that she wanted to say more, but he’d known Liz long enough now that he shouldn’t press the matter. Instead, he reached over to graze a comforting hand across her shoulder and down her arm. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I know you’d do the same for me,” he offered kindly, pressing his finger under her chin, tilting it upwards before pulling back with a grin.

“Come on, let’s get the rest of your things and get the fuck out of here.” Armie stood up, dusting pizza crust crumbles off his jeans then offered a hand to help Liz up. They’d been packing up her things all day, trying to get everything out of her ex-boyfriend’s apartment before he got home, but they had decidedly taken a break for pizza after working nonstop. There were only a few boxes left to pack. 

“When do you get the keys for your new place?” Armie asked, pulling tape over one of the last few boxes by the door. Liz was busy looking through the cupboards in the hallway to make sure they had packed everything that belonged to her. She grabbed a brand new box of energy efficient light bulbs, waving them in the air as if she’d won a prize.

“In two days. I booked a hotel downtown.”

Armie stopped what he was doing and stood up to look at her pointedly. “That’s bullshit. You can just crash with me for two days.” Over the past year she had stayed over numerous times when things were shitty between her and her now ex-boyfriend. Two more nights wouldn’t make a difference. Armie could tell she wanted to turn him down but she knew he could be just as stubborn as she was, which was part of why they had never worked out as a couple. 

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Armie,” she tightened her lips and Armie fucking knew, he’d always known that Liz didn’t need his help, or anyone’s, she was a force to be reckoned with and though he admired that about her, they’d never found their balance back when they dated in college. Armie laughed and she joined in after a moment.

“But you do live closer to my office, so…” Liz smirked and he rolled his eyes, still smiling.

After dropping everything off at the storage unit Liz had rented, they stopped by Armie’s brewery to get some beer to bring back to the apartment, and along the way ordered another pizza. Armie made sure to order extra so that there would be leftovers to leave in the fridge for Timmy. He knew the kid was a fan of cold cheese pizza. 

Thinking about his roommate, Armie pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up his messages. He didn’t click on the text from Timmy but instead stared down nervously into his lap, reading the words from the inbox, checking the time the text was received. Six hours had passed and the idea of turning Timmy down now was even more unappealing than it had been when he first got the message.

-

“Did you know your roommate works at a radio station?” Liz asked curiously as she crawled back under the covers of Armie’s bed. She turned to her side, propping her chin on her palm as she looked over him in his makeshift bed on the floor. Armie shook his head.

“No, I didn’t.” He subconsciously looked back at his phone that was charging on the floor nearby. The unread message from Timmy had been on his mind all night but there was no going back. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes, tucking his elbow behind his head in an attempt to get comfortable. Liz was still staring, he could feel her intense gaze on him but he did his best to ignore it.

“Armie, you know you don’t have to sleep on the floor. We did share a bed for like two years.”

Armie didn’t say anything, instead just smiled and wished her a soft goodnight. She sighed but didn’t push it and instead turned off the light in surrender. Armie laid awake for what felt like forever, sleep evading him like a scorned ex-lover. He tossed and turned until finally, exhaustion was overwhelming and he felt his body slowly give in to sleep. Then his phone buzzed and his eyes flashed open in an instant.

TC: hey, forgot to save ur friend nicks number. resend?

Armie stared at the preview message from Timmy for a few minutes. He felt himself starting to analyze the words, trying to figure out why Timmy would send this particular text at almost 6 o'clock in the morning. His mind swirled with what if’s and maybe’s and then suddenly, he saw Nick’s excited smile, his dreamy eyes that had yet to stop asking about Timmy. His stomach clenched in an unfamiliar and territorial way that made him feel sick to his stomach and without any other hesitation, he responded with the numbers then immediately powered his phone off and pretended to sleep until it was time for work.

-

The apartment was silent for three days. Armie was used to being up and about after Timmy had already left for school or work or the radio, whatever it was he did but this felt different. It was almost as if there was no sign that he even had a roommate. No discarded converse by the door, no cherry covered sweater left on the back of the couch. Worst of all, no music played through the walls on the night Armie was home sick from work. He knew Timmy was home, he could see the light flowing from under his doorway, but other than a very soft rumble that meant that television was on, silence.

When Armie woke up the next morning from a cough medicine induced sleep, his body still weak and unstable because he hadn’t slept all of the medication off, he almost thought he was hallucinating when he spotted Timmy asleep on the couch. As he rounded the counter to take a look over the back of the brown sofa, there he was fast asleep - his mouth hanging open, pants low hanging on his hips, smooth skin peeking under his shirt, his knee hiked up with a blanket thrown haphazardly over his body, tube socks bunched over the cuff of his sweatpants, curls absolutely insane as tissues littered around his head like a sickly halo and so many freckles... Armie didn’t realize he was staring until a congested snore erupted from Timmy’s mouth and he hurried back into the kitchen.

Armie tried his best to be quick and silent as he made himself tea, but it felt like the kettle was taking forever to whistle and he had to physically force himself to keep his back to the living room because he was too curious not to stare. He busied himself by tearing open a packet of tea, fucking with the string in the mug, and was nearly in the clear when suddenly he heard a hoarse, softer than air, deeper than should be possible, voice from behind him. A chill ran over his back and he turned around slowly.

“Hey...is the stove still on or am I just dying from fever?” Timmy asked, slumped halfway over the island that separated him from Armie. 

“What?” Armie turned completely around, almost too quickly, his balance unstable from the NyQuil. He looked at Timmy for half a second then towards the stove. He’d left the burner on. “Shit, my bad. Thanks.” He reached over to turn the knob but Timmy waved a hand lazily. 

“That’s okay, could you leave it on? Tea sounds good.”

Armie wondered if Timmy’s voice was always this deep or if it was just this raspy and low because he was sick. 

“I’ve got water to spare. Would you like me to make you some?” Armie was already pulling a second mug out of the cupboard. 

“That’d be _tea-riffic_ ,” Timmy chuckled, pure congestion and wheeziness but he seemed proud of himself. Armie looked over his shoulder and laughed. Laughed at the ridiculousness, the terrible pun, and the half-alive bundle of curls that was practically swaying on his feet but still managed to be delightful. Was this how Timmy was every day? 

His laugh seemed to pull Timmy out of his standing reverie and as Armie turned around to place Timmy’s mug of tea on the island, their eyes locked together for the first time. 

Timmy’s eyes felt calculating and intense. He hadn’t expected them to be so green, so wide. Maybe it was the red tint of the tip of his stuffy nose or the shade of pink that lined his eyes, but fuck, it almost hurt to look at him. As their eyes connected, there was something disappointing in the way that Timmy looked him over, like unfamiliarity but also intrigue, curiosity as if Armie really was a stranger. He tried not to let the rejection wash over him. 

“What day is it?” Timmy asked suddenly, his gaze falling as he pulled a stool out and took a seat at the island. Armie raised an eyebrow, wondering just how out of it he was.

“It’s Sunday.”

Timmy looked relieved, burying his face into his hands then pushed his hair back which only worked temporarily before the curls fell back over his forehead, partially into his eyes.

“I think my roommate got me sick,” Timmy sighed with exasperation. He looked up at Armie through his curls. “You better chug some orange juice before it’s too late.” Timmy attempted what seemed to be a wry grin but Armie sensed a sadness to it. “Though it’s probably too late by the looks of it.”

Realization ignited Armie’s brain and he almost laughed out. Not only did Timmy not know _who he was_ but from the sound of it he was assuming that he was someone that he’d _brought home_ for the night. Armie knew he should have felt embarrassment, and he did wonder how Timmy could be so comfortable talking that way with someone who he assumed to be Armie’s one night stand, clearly this wasn’t the first encounter. 

“Oh yeah, way too late for me,” Armie grinned as he lifted his mug to his mouth, blowing gently at the liquid to cool it down. He knew it was unfair to Timmy not to tell him, maybe even cruel to go along with it, but a few minutes of deception couldn’t hurt. 

“That sucks,” Timmy spoke quietly after a failed attempt to sip his tea. He’d clearly burned his tongue, his eyes watering from the pain, but Armie could tell he was desperately trying to make it seem like nothing had happened. Fuck, why was that cute? 

They were both silent for a minute or two, quietly sipping their hot drinks. At least, _he_ was quiet. Timmy on the other hand was loud but delicately; occasionally he’d sniffle his nose or slurp from the rim of his mug only to hiss gently when it was still too hot. Armie was trying his best not to stare but Timmy was doing the same and it soon became a battle of _you’re looking at me and I know you’re looking at me...so I’m going to continue to look at you unabashedly so that you don’t think you’ve won._ It was invigorating but soon became overwhelming and all too quickly Timmy was standing up, thanking him for the tea, and excusing himself. 

“Hey, Timmy,” Armie stood upright, his voice louder than he’d intended but he didn’t want Timmy to go. He bit his lip, wondering what he could say that wouldn’t make him seem like an asshole for not revealing who he was sooner and after a cursory look at Timmy, up and down, which made them both shift nervously on their feet, he knew just what to say. Timmy was already looking at him with mild surprise, probably because he hadn’t expected him to know his name. 

“I’m glad you like my shirt,” Armie nodded at the band shirt he’d given to him weeks ago, which was too small for him now but hung baggy and loose in the most adorable way over Timmy’s slender frame. “Looks good on you.”

-

“Shit, I’m so embarrassed,” Timmy groaned sheepishly but there was a smile on his face that spread from ear to ear. Armie found it contagious and soon enough they were both grinning like idiots. After Armie’s confession they had migrated to the living room which was how he ended up on one end of the couch, mugs of tea long forgotten, while Timmy hugged his knees to his chest at the other end. 

“Seriously, I’m such an asshole. I’m so sorry,” Timmy mumbled, burying his face into his hands. Armie wasn’t sure what made him feel like he had the right, but he reached out and gently peeled his fingers away, offering a reassuring smile once Timmy’s eyes met his. Timmy’s mouth hung open, his eyes locked hard on his with an emotion Armie couldn’t register but Timmy averted his gaze only half a second later. Was he shy or just embarrassed? 

“I’m the asshole. I should’ve made an effort to meet you. Life has been hectic but,” Armie clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He had no real excuse. Shit was insane at work but it hadn’t taken over his whole life. The truth was that he was simply stuck in his routine, unable to break habits that’d he picked up over the years, things that he didn’t care to stray away from; like drinking after work with friends or adding another notch to his bedpost - not even to do something as simple as helping his new roommate move in, or say hi to him in the morning when he heard him watching tv. He knew he was the asshole in this situation but admitting it in earnest was difficult. 

Something seemed to wash over Timmy, his shoulders slumping as he started to sink in on himself. Armie looked at Timmy with apologetic eyes, guilt like a fresh wound in his gut, only made worse as Timmy pulled on the cherry sweater that had been tucked under the pillow he must have brought from his room. Timmy swiped the back of his too long sleeves over his stuffy nose. Armie tightened his lips hold back a sad smile. The sweater was nice but seeing Timmy in his old T-shirt from college had made him warm. 

“Hey, it’s all good. At least now I know you’re not just a figment of my imagination,” Timmy chuckled, but it turned into a small coughing fit. Armie was still sick but clearly Timmy was in the peak of illness. 

“I should let you get some rest,” Armie offered gently. He scratched at the beard that blanketed his chin and cheeks, he’d been too sick to shave the past few days. Timmy looked disappointed but understanding. He coughed a bit more and Armie frowned with concern. 

“Have you taken any medicine to help you with that? I’ve got some NyQuil.”

Timmy shook his head, curls running amuck. “That stuff makes me feel weird. I get too uncomfortable to fall asleep,” he shrugged, offering a smile in gratitude. “I just can’t relax when I feel all drowsy like that.” 

“What if I stayed out here with you?” Armie picked up the controller on the coffee table. Timmy had clearly been watching Netflix but the screen was black and asking _are you still watching…_ Armie laughed when he read out the name. ”We can keep watching _Tidying Up._ ”

Timmy threw his pillow at him and Armie caught it with a laugh. They stayed like that on the couch for a while, after Timmy let him dose him up with cough medicine and made then both more tea. He teased Timmy relentlessly about Tidying Up and how _clearly, this is working wonders_ as he pointed out the sea of tissues on the floor. 

Eventually Timmy fell asleep, drool lining the creases of his lips, a rhythmic snore vibrating his chest, his toes tucked under Armie’s thigh. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb Timmy in any way, despite the fact that he was probably going to be unconscious for the next 7 hours. Armie smiled to himself, looking over his roommate, thinking of how he’d been such an idiot to wait so long to meet him. It’d only taken a few minutes of conversation for them to warm up, to ease into each other, to find that they not only got along but it was as if they had already been friends, insides jokes and all. The familiarity of Timmy by his side was overwhelming. Maybe they had never really been strangers. 

Armie felt his own exhaustion start to creep over him and reluctantly he staggered his way back to his room. He pulled his blankets back and crawled in, ready to close his eyes but his phone buzzed and he unplugged it from the charger to bring it closer. 

Nick: hey man, just closed up shop. hope ur feeling better.

Armie started to type up a reply but Nick sent another before he could respond. 

Nick: wanted to tell u thanks because timmy texted me this morning and we have a date this weekend!  
Nick: thanks for putting in a good word :)

Armie hated every thought that coursed through his brain, every ache of guilt and jealousy that he couldn’t shake. He sighed, resigning to the defeat and the situation he’d brought upon himself. He thought of Nick, how he could sense his excitement through the phone, and of Timmy, who seemed like someone sweet enough and deserving of his best friend, and then of himself; a selfish idiot who had waited too long. 

Armie responded with a single thumbs up emoji and eventually fell asleep, dreaming of cherry sweaters and curly hair and how no matter how much he wanted them, they could never be his.

\- end of part one -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn’t really think i could just end it there, did you?

**Author's Note:**

> cumpeachx on tumblr if you need to @ me


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